


I Tripped and You Fell

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hipsters, M/M, Romance, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiyong crashes into Seunghyun. Literally. The rest is just chemistry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Tripped and You Fell

 

Out of the three-hundred and sixty-five days that made up a year, Jiyong probably hated this one the most.  _Valentines Day._  He gripped the handlebars of his bike and scowled, doing his best to ignore the flashes of red and pink and white in his periphery as he sped down the busy city streets, weaving in and out of traffic. It wasn't that he was bitter because he was single, it was that the world didn't need a specific day in which to ritualize something that should be celebrated at all times. You could call him a hopeless romantic until you were blue in the face, he was just being honest. If you really loved someone, with every part of who you were, it spoke for itself. Fuck jewelry and flowers and chocolate and teddy bears. Romantic gestures were made of intangible things, not objects. He sighed, slowing down to a stop as the light changed from yellow to red.

 

The sun was setting and he could feel the hesitance in his muscles as he pedaled forward to meet his impending doom. Work would undoubtedly be transformed into the sixth circle of hell that night. The restaurant was always insane, but today was  _special_. Jiyong couldn't wait to pour endless glasses of overpriced wine for seemingly devoted couples who let the drugged smiles fall from their faces whenever they thought no one was looking. He'd seen it so many times he'd started keeping a tally in his head, year in and year out. Maybe he should look for another job. Running a hand through his short, blonde hair, he kicked off from the curb when the light changed from red to green.

 

Only he never made it across the intersection because some mindless asshole ran the light in their shiny new BMW and almost nailed him head on. Jiyong released a string of curses and veered off the road, promptly crashing into the raised curb of the sidewalk and flying over the handles of his bike. Unfortunately he took someone else down with him, grunting in pain as they collided with each other and the hard cement. And of course, everyone kept moving around them like nothing had happened. Barely batted a fucking eyelash. Lifting up on his hands, he pressed a palm to his forehead and groaned.

 

“You all right, man?”

 

A gravelly baritone bled through the rage and he blinked down at the poor soul he'd managed to inconvenience. But words would have failed him if he'd tried to speak because said  _poor soul_  was the hottest fucking guy he'd seen in months. Jiyong gaped, staring hopelessly into concerned eyes. Spiky, white-blonde hair sat perfectly styled atop his head, dark roots peeking out from his scalp the same color as the thick smudges of his eyebrows. The boy's ears were gauged, larger than his own, two mismatched ebony plugs dangling from stretched lobes. Strong jaw, smooth skin, tremendously kissable bow-shaped lips. He focused on breathing before even entertaining the idea of coherent thought.

 

Then long fingers coiled around his arm and jolted him back to reality.

 

“That was a serious tumble,” the boy murmured, brows furrowing. “Can you stand?”

 

Jiyong nodded and allowed himself to be helped to his feet, failing not to revel in the heat from the boy's touch. He dusted himself off, adrenaline still coursing through his veins after dodging his own death. Luckily he'd come away from the accident with nothing but tender bruises and a few scrapes.

 

“Thanks,” Jiyong finally responded, tossing him a half-smile and doing his best not to leer. “Sorry for slamming into you.”

 

The boy grinned, twin dimples bracketing sunshine incarnate, and Jiyong felt more than just adrenaline pulsing in his blood-stream. Tendrils of permanent ink crept up from the line of his savior's tight, black v-neck and decorated the creamy flesh of his biceps. He thought about ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest and pressing it into those beautiful, long-fingered hands.

 

“I should be so lucky to end up with my arms full of cute guys on a regular basis.” The boy's grin became a rueful huff of laughter. “It's not your fault.”

 

Well hello smooth operator. Jiyong chuckled and ducked his head, cheeks tingling with warmth. He spotted bloody, torn flesh at the boy's elbow and his face fell, stepping forward to grab the damaged limb without even thinking.

 

“Shit, I'm so sorry.”

 

“Really, it's okay. Don't worry about it.” The boy smiled down at him. “I'll be fine.”

 

Jiyong successfully managed to stop himself from muttering “you're already fine” and settled for crouching to retrieve his bike. There was nothing broken, as far as he could tell, and he thanked god for sparing him the joy of paying for repairs. Lifting his gaze to meet the other's obvious amusement, he cleared his throat and extended his hand.

 

“I'm Jiyong, by the way.”

 

“Seunghyun.” The boy's smile softened as he slid his fingers into Jiyong's grasp.

 

“Thanks, again, for saving me from cracking my skull open.”

 

“The pleasure is entirely mine.” Seunghyun's amusement increased, dark eyes never leaving his as their clasped hands hung between them still. “It's a very nice skull. I think I did the world a favor.”

 

Jiyong blushed again, the crackling heat racing from his cheeks down to his neck and beyond. Where the hell had this guy even come from? No one had flirted with him so blatantly without the help of one too many shots and the delusional belief that he was actually interested. Though in this case he found himself eager for more. Jiyong averted his gaze, dropping Seunghyun's hand as he bit down on a bashful smirk. Everything continued to swirl around them, nameless faces coming and going without so much as a passing glance. He marveled that the earth hadn't come to a screeching halt. Maybe he had, in fact, spilled the contents of his brain all over the sidewalk and this was purgatory. Sentenced to an eternity of overly flirtatious strangers with pretty faces and warm, tattooed fingers. Catching the blinking, L.E.D glow of a sign above the drug store across the street, Jiyong remembered that work awaited him. It was already five forty-five. Fuck, he would have to haul so much ass if he didn't want to be late.

 

“As much as I would love to listen to you compliment my skull all evening...” He wiped a sweaty palm over his jeans as he slowly regained the use of his tongue. “I have to go ply supposedly besotted couples with wine so they'll leave me bigger tips.”

 

Seunghyun's answering laughter washed over him like a melody he'd forgotten the words to. Infectious and familiar and teasing. Like he'd heard it a million times before in the haze of his dreams. He didn't hide his smirk when it pulled insistently at the corner of his mouth once more.

 

“I take it you wait tables.”

 

“Yeah, over at Soleil et la Lune.” God, he hated that name. “If you're envisioning a pretentious French bistro, just add an air of overwhelming condescension and you're half-way there.”

 

Another peal of ringing laughter flowed into his ears and took up residence in his blood. Could you form an addiction to the way someone laughed? Jiyong was pretty sure he would be remembering that sound for weeks.

 

“They let you work with tats and piercings?” Seunghyun asked, gesturing to the cacophony of color and line on his arms.

 

“I may or may not have sweet-talked my way through that particular part of the interview.” Jiyong smiled. “The woman who owns the restaurant is a friend of my dad's, so I get away with a lot more than I should.”

 

“I'm sure even without the familial connections you'd have no problem sweet-talking your way out of anything.”

 

The silver-haired boy's perpetual smirk and glimmer of mirth in his warm gaze were inspiring a multitude of giddy feelings to rip apart the inside of his stomach.

 

“You would know, seeing as you're the expert here,” he blurted.

 

Oh wow, what the hell was wrong with him. Cringing, Jiyong turned away, hoping the boy couldn't tell just how mortified he was at the words spilling forth without a filter. Sometimes he greatly desired to just sew his damn mouth shut. Seunghyun's eyes crinkled at the corners and he thought about dying. Should he share that instead, perhaps? Jiyong sighed, tips of his fingers toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck as he attempted to drag his attention from the way the boy's gray, corduroy pants hugged his thighs. He needed to get on his bike and go or else he'd stand here all fucking day. Staring. Blushing. Licking his lips like Seunghyun was the first cherry-flavored popsicle of Summer.

 

“Listen, I gotta jet or I'll be seriously late.” He stuck his arm out for another shake. “Thank you again, sorry, and I hope your elbow's okay.”

 

“If I repeat myself,” Seunghyun began, taking Jiyong's hand firmly in his own. “Do I still get the title of “expert sweet-talker”?”

 

And the hits just kept on coming. He chuckled, the laughter bubbling up from his lungs in little bursts of merry disbelief. They certainly did not make them like this anymore. Jiyong studied Seunghyun's features one final time in order to commit them to memory, reluctantly pulling his hand back.

 

“I'll see you around, Seunghyun.”

 

“I'm sure you will.” There was a knowing glint hidden in the black depths of those lovely eyes and it made him shiver. “Only next time, give me a heads up before you land in my lap, yeah?”

 

Jiyong gave him a smirking salute and walked his bike back onto the street, quickly mounting the two-wheeled mode of transportation before taking off into the flow of taxis and delivery trucks. Just as he pulled up outside of the already crowded restaurant, he realized, belatedly, that he'd fled the scene without leaving any evidence behind. No phone number, no email, not even a last name. A half-hearted kick to the wheel of his bicycle made him feel two point three percent better about being an idiot. The odds of running into Seunghyun again were slim to none, but the universe had literally flung them together once already, so who the hell knew. Anything was possible. Jiyong locked his bike up and mourned his fate. Now he couldn't passive-aggressively woo the boy on Instagram by liking all of his photos and never actually talking to him directly. He snorted. It was funnier because he'd really done that once, though the guy had been a total dick and only wanted to get into his pants.

 

Feeling happier than he'd been all month, Jiyong waltzed into Soleil et la Lune and didn't even care that it was his least favorite day of the year anymore. He'd collided with a ray of sunshine and there was no coming down from a high quite like that.

 

*

 

The evening flew by with surprising speed, business hectic enough that Jiyong hardly spared the passing of time much thought. What he did spend most of his time thinking about, as he danced around busboys and well-dressed patrons, was how much of Seunghyun's milky skin was covered in thick, inked lines. How the low rumble of his voice would feel with his chest molded to Jiyong's back. How sweet that mouth really was.

 

And how they might spend their own Valentines Day were the boy his.

 

He wanted to smack himself for that last one, shrugging his white button-up from his shoulders and placing it inside of a locker in the staff room. Jiyong sluggishly changed out of his slacks and tugged his black jeans back on, rolling the hems to his calves. Straightening his pale blue t-shirt, he bent to check his hair in the mirror and mussed up the coiffed, blonde strands now that he was off the clock. It irritated him when he had to appear too perfect. It made his skin crawl. Tonight he felt pretty scuzzy though, the seven hour shift taking a lot out of him. Catering to an endless parade of conceited yuppies and their plastic wives would do that. He sighed, picking up his phone and his wallet from the small metal shelf and shutting the locker door. The bike ride home would probably help.

 

But when he stepped out onto the sidewalk to find a strikingly familiar face waiting for him, his heart stopped. Surely he wasn't dreaming, having fallen asleep nestled between the pots and pans of the now silent kitchen.

 

“Seunghyun?” He asked, eyebrow quirked.

 

The silver-haired boy was leaning against the lamp post outside of the restaurant, slender legs crossed at the ankle and a single gardenia clutched in his fingers. Seunghyun lifted his head when he heard Jiyong call his name. The smile he received in greeting was nothing short of toe-curling.

 

“Hi, Jiyong.” Seunghyun's face turned a remarkable shade of pink as he continued. “I'm not usually one for overly romantic gestures or celebrating pointless commercial holidays and I hope I'm not being too forward, but...will you come out with me tonight?”

 

Jiyong's brain froze, getting tangled in the implication of romantic gestures and the presence of a gorgeous, white flower in the boy's hands. And the fact that the boy was here to begin with. Oh, if only every stalker was as beautiful as Seunghyun.

 

“I-” Jiyong honestly didn't know what to say, so he laughed and pressed his palm to his cheek in amazement. “Wow.”

 

“I'm aware of how creepy it is that I came here and waited for you, but I don't think it's a mistake that I did.”

 

Peeking at Seunghyun's optimistic expression through the mask of his fingers, he bit down on his lip to control the intensity of the grin that wanted to split his face in two. He shook his head.

 

“No, it's not.” Jiyong let his arm fall to his side. “That's a rather impressive blossom you've got there.”

 

Seunghyun glanced down at the gardenia and his lips curved as he held it out in offering. Their fingers grazed as Jiyong took the flower and he swallowed thickly. It was just a pretty plant, why was he getting all worked up over this? Maybe because no one had ever given him flowers before, singular or plural. A warmth grew inside of his chest as he gazed at the whorls of delicate petals and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled like heaven.

 

“I'm totally screwed if you know anything about the symbolism of plants,” Seunghyun murmured, watching him with obvious pleasure when he twirled it in his fingers.

 

Eyeing him critically, Jiyong fought the beating of his over-enthusiastic heart. They barely knew each other and here he was, melting because of a fucking flower.

 

“You shouldn't have said anything, then. Because now I'm gonna pester you until you tell me.”

 

For a long moment, Seunghyun merely stared at him, fists shoved in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet. Jiyong closed his eyes and breathed in the strong scent of the gardenia, looking up at the boy again only to have him tip forward and whisper low.

 

“It means you're lovely.” Seunghyun's deep voice caressed the shell of his ear.

 

Before he could sway backward, Jiyong grabbed onto the boy's arm and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Fuck being a smooth operator, Seunghyun was Casanova reborn. The guy deserved it for trying so hard. A little on the light-headed side, he smirked up at Seunghyun and waited for the glaze to clear from his eyes.

 

“So, Romeo...” Jiyong liked this game a bit too much. “Where are we going?”

 

The only answer he received was a flash of white teeth and then Seunghyun's grip was circling his wrist and they were off.

 

*

 

“Do you like music?” Seunghyun had asked on the way and Jiyong had cracked up, laughing big and bright.

 

What a ridiculous question.

 

“Who the hell doesn't like music?”

 

“Well, you could've been the one person in the world who didn't, how am I supposed to know?” The boy had smiled at him, teasing, like their continuous banter since earlier that afternoon had been shaped by years of close friendship.

 

“Yes, I like music.”

 

“Good.” Seunghyun's face had been glowing non-stop and it filled him with a mass of energetic butterflies. “Just don't start telling me who your favorite bands are or I might never let you go.”

 

That particular remark had made his skin prickle, the hairs on his arms raising as if they too wanted to be kidnapped by the charming boy. Every minute spent with Seunghyun had given him too many reasons to believe in love at first sight, because he realized he was losing himself with each fleeting touch. With each fond word and each distracting curl of his mouth.

 

“What if you don't like what you hear?” Jiyong had teased right back, nudging Seunghyun in the arm with his shoulder.

 

“I don't believe that's possible.”

 

The conviction in his voice had rendered Jiyong mute after that and he'd settled for stealing lingering glances until they reached their destination.

 

Their destination turned out to be a bar that he'd never even heard of before. It was tiny and divey and packed wall to wall with the weirdest collection of people Jiyong had ever seen in one room. Shaggy, bearded boys sporting cut-off jeans and thick-rimmed glasses. Bored looking girls wearing mini-dresses and jean jackets and too much eye-shadow. Frat boys in striped shirts and cargo pants. Old men and women who displayed their lives in the wrinkles of their faces instead of the wrinkles of their clothes. And everywhere, the overwhelming aroma of tobacco and pot. Jiyong was in awe that a place like this even existed. He expressed this awe to Seunghyun, who had chuckled and leaned close to speak over the beats spewing from the jukebox.

 

“I work at a recording studio downtown, it's my job to know.”

 

Like he needed yet another reason to be infatuated and impressed. Seunghyun was a unicorn in the land of single men. There was no other way around it. He raised his eyebrows and the boy's lips curled in another smirk.

 

“You want a beer?” Seunghyun shouted and he nodded.

 

One beer became multiple by the time the band took the nearly non-existent stage at the back of the bar. Jiyong had no idea what to expect but he didn't care. He was excited and sort of buzzed and he liked that personal space wasn't an option, his side pressed to Seunghyun's in the crowd of strangers. At one point he had to move to let someone pass through the masses, sliding over until their chests aligned. The boy trailed his hand up Jiyong's arm and drew him into the line of his body to make more room but in the back of his head he knew better. Especially because it took Seunghyun several minutes to let go, long fingers branding his skin. He'd let his eyes drift shut, swaying slightly when the warm haze of the boy's body heat and the boy's scent surrounded him.

 

Jiyong cradled the fragile blossom of the gardenia in his palm to save it from getting crushed but it was becoming more and more difficult as more and more people filtered into the bar. Seunghyun noticed, pulling them into the throng to stand against the wall not far from the stage, taking the flower and setting it on the ledge next to empty cans of beer and frothy pint glasses. Jiyong grinned at him, leaning into the wood paneling behind, and Seunghyun's eyes glittered in the dim lights overhead. His pulse skittered dangerously as they stared at each other, breathing becoming labored in the thick air and the thicker tension coiling between them. A gentle hand reached up to cup his cheek, Seunghyun's thumb sweeping across the tender flesh of his lip, and he suddenly felt like he'd had ten beers instead of five. Lids hooded, Jiyong nuzzled into the caress. His face burned like it was on fire. And just as the opening bars of the first song exploded in the small room, with the loud, reverb heavy strum of an electric guitar, Seunghyun crushed his mouth to Jiyong's.

 

His bones hummed with the noises of the shaking bass and tinny cymbals; the sultry growl of a woman's voice sliding from note to note collecting in the pit of his belly. But none of that compared to the slick surface of Seunghyun's tongue wreaking havoc on his composure. On his perception of reality. Jiyong's fingers had found the material of his shirt, clutching tightly at the fabric and digging the blunt tips of his nails into the boy's back. Their lips moved in an easy rhythm, hungry yet sweet. Mellow. Languid. He nipped and teased and trailed his tongue over the roof of Seunghyun's mouth until the boy withdrew, taking Jiyong's heart with him in the process. The dopey, smitten smile on that beautiful face resonated in his mind and he would never forget it.

 

For the next hour at least, they couldn't keep their hands from roaming. From maintaining whatever physical contact the cramped space allowed. Seunghyun eventually pulled him away from the wall and settled his arms around Jiyong's shoulders from behind, chin resting on top of his head as they listened to the raucous blues music. Though he was more entranced by the rolling, muted melody of Seunghyun singing along and the way it enveloped his senses. Because he could feel it thrumming in his ribs more than he could hear it. Without much thought, he brought one of his hands up, gripping the boy's forearm and stroking the soft skin with the pads of his fingers. Seunghyun bent down and kissed the spiky hairs at his temple.

 

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

 

Jiyong craned his neck to look at him, finding nothing but the potent glimmer of fondness that had been present in his eyes all night. He grinned, snatched the flower,  _his_  flower, from the ledge and they pushed their way out of the sweaty crowd and into the cooler climate of early morning. What time was it? Jiyong didn't even care. Seunghyun's palm connected with his and nothing else mattered anymore. He was flying.

 

The boy stole the gardenia from his grasp and tucked it behind his ear, adorably goofy smile stretching his mouth wide. Jiyong blushed profusely, melting all over again.

 

“So...” Seunghyun let the word hang.

 

“So,” he practically giggled and promptly wanted to punch himself.

 

He was blaming the beer.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Not really, are you?”

 

“No.” The boy's face lit up and he laughed.

 

They were walking but he didn't know where they were going, which seemed to be a trend for the adventures of the evening. Jiyong didn't mind though, he just didn't want to go home. Not yet. He wasn't finished with this feeling and he was almost one hundred percent positive that he never would be. He'd been right about forming an addiction to Seunghyun's laughter. What he didn't take into account was forming an addiction to Seunghyun himself. Pushing the silent admission to the recesses of his brain, he focused on the sound of their footsteps on the cement. The scuff of their shoes falling in and out sync.

 

“Would you like to accompany me to my apartment, then? It's not far.” Seunghyun spoke quietly, but the giddy hopefulness shone through his hesitance.

 

Jiyong's heart skipped several beats. He squeezed the boy's fingers in his own.

 

“Sure.”

 

And then, like before, they were off.

 

*

 

Seunghyun's apartment was nice. No, it was more than nice it was...elegant. Which surprised him. There was a disconnect between the details he'd gathered of this strange, brilliant boy and the things he expected. Further proof that he needed to be less of a judgmental prick. He huffed, amused at himself and the way the day had unfolded. Perhaps he'd been a little harsh in writing off Valentines Day as the worst day of the entire year. Jiyong wandered around the spacious living room while Seunghyun poured them much needed glasses of water in the kitchen. The walls were covered in framed music posters from live shows spanning the last two decades at least. Signed album sleeves behind shiny glass. Music paraphernalia of all sorts littered every nook and cranny but it wasn't chaotic. Everything made sense despite the clutter and Jiyong admitted that he was utterly jealous. His place wasn't gross, or anything, but it lacked the apparent cohesiveness of Seunghyun's life. He wondered how long the boy had been working in the music business. How old he was. Did he play any instruments? What was his favorite song?

 

A glass of ice-water appeared in front of him, disturbing the game of twenty questions in his head and he took the drink with enthusiasm. Seunghyun laughed as Jiyong gulped the water down until all that remained were glistening cubes. He sensed the boy's eyes on the side of his face, the caress of his gaze drifting along his jaw and his neck. The glass disappeared from his hands much the same as it got there and Seunghyun took him by the wrist, leading him down a narrow hallway.

 

“I have a question,” Jiyong declared as he was pulled into a large room with a high ceiling and hard-wood floors.

 

“Shoot.”

 

They were in Seunghyun's bedroom. He had been dreading and anticipating this in equal parts. He would decide which one prevailed after he got his answer.

 

“Why did you come to the restaurant tonight?”

 

The boy closed the door with a faint click, coming to stand in front of Jiyong. Seunghyun paused before speaking, arms crossed over his chest as his gaze pinned him to the spot. He needed to know the answer.

 

“Because you, quite literally, knocked me off of my feet.” Seunghyun's eyes were forever glued to his face. “It's not every day I get physically assaulted by an attractive guy with a killer smile and a sense of humor.”

 

Laughter broke free of the seal of his mouth and he didn't know what to do with his hands. His fidgeting was stilled by Seunghyun holding his wrists, touch sliding down until he'd slotted their knuckles together. Jiyong knew his cheeks must be ablaze with crimson color. Casanova was weaving his magic spell.

 

“And there was something about you that stayed with me throughout the afternoon,” the boy continued, sauntering backwards towards the massive bed with him in tow. “Something I couldn't place.”

 

Sitting down, Seunghyun tugged until Jiyong had toppled forward into his lap. He released another giggle but restrained the need to hurt himself for doing so, more interested in what was being said with both fingers and lips as the boy snaked his arms around Jiyong's waist.

 

“I thought you said you wanted me to give you a heads up the next time this happened,” he whispered, brushing their noses together.

 

Seunghyun's chuckle sent a shiver down his spine, the hands at his waist peeling the shirt from his torso and over his head.

 

“Something tells me you'll have that opportunity again.”

 

A kiss was pressed to his collarbone and he sighed, returning the favor by freeing Seunghyun of his own t-shirt. Jiyong devoured the sight of the curling ink splashed across the expanse of bared skin. Unbelievably stunning works of permanent art. Thick lines and saturated hues. Stylized and traditional. Fuck, he was so jealous.

 

“Your ink is really beautiful.” He sent his hands on a journey over the planes of Seunghyun's chest, tracing loops and curves with reverent fingers.

 

“I can think of one thing that's more beautiful.”

 

Jiyong stopped his exploration and narrowed his eyes.

 

“You are the cheesiest asshole, I swear,” he muttered, not without humor.

 

Releasing a hearty laugh, Seunghyun cupped his cheeks and Jiyong surged forward to cut him off with his mouth, swallowing the joyous sounds with the tenderness of his kisses.

 

With more care than an almost total stranger should possess, Seunghyun divested them of the rest of their clothes and buried Jiyong in his embrace underneath the covers. There was no disappointment at the lack of more strenuous activities, because cuddling into the nest of the boy's limbs and drowning in the sweetness of his affections was so much  _more_  than anything Jiyong could have anticipated when he'd walked out the door that morning. As he fell asleep to the tune of Seunghyun's even breaths puffing against the crook of his neck, he thanked the jackass in the red BMW for delivering him into the arms of the greatest Valentines gift he'd ever received.


End file.
